


Charmed 102: The Book Of Shadows

by Metal_Ox137



Series: Charmed AU1 [2]
Category: Charmed (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 14:16:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4224897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metal_Ox137/pseuds/Metal_Ox137
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While searching for a new Book of Shadows, Phoebe Halliwell receives a frightening warning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charmed 102: The Book Of Shadows

"Where do you want this box, Prue?"  
Phoebe Halliwell staggered into her sister's bedroom, carrying a large moving box in her arms, barely able to see over or around it.  
"Just drop it right there, Phoebe," replied Prudence Trudeau. "We need to go through it. There are some clothes inside that might fit you."  
Phoebe released her burden with great relief, and the box struck the floor with a muted thump.  
"Woof!" she exhaled, wiping the sweat from her brow with her forearm. "I thought we were going to get Darryl to help with more of the heavy lifting stuff."  
"He's done the heavy lifting already," dark-haired Prue reminded her younger sister with a smile. "This is the light to medium stuff. Besides, he's out picking up lunch, and he can't be in two places at once."  
"He could be, if we had our magic back," Phoebe grinned, only half-jokingly. "We could cast a spell on him, so he could be picking up burgers and shifting boxes all at the same time."  
"Ah-ah," Prue wagged a finger. "Even if we still had our magic, no personal gain, remember?"  
She glanced around the cluttered bedroom, currently piled high with boxes, and sighed. "I can't believe I've collected this much stuff already."  
It had been nearly three weeks since Phoebe Halliwell had been dragged into a magical vortex, and unceremoniously dropped into an alternate reality, where her eldest sister Prue was six years older, and the only surviving member of the Halliwell coven. Phoebe and Prue had managed to ward off the demon responsible, but in so doing Phoebe was now stranded in this new and different world, unable to return home, without resources, friends or family - except for the alternate version of her sister, who was in many ways a total stranger. Worse still, they had no way of knowing for certain if the demon was still at large in Prue's world, or how to find and vanquish him, as all magic from this reality had been expunged. Although the Halliwell sisters were still technically witches, there was no magical energy in this world for them to tap into.  
After recovering from the shock of seeing a dead sister returned to life, Prue had insisted that Phoebe stay with her at Prue's apartment, and now the sisters were undertaking to make Phoebe's stay more permanent, clearing out the spare room so it could be truly Phoebe's own bedroom. They had also discovered that each of them had the same birthdays in both realities, and Prue had offered the room to Phoebe on her birthday, in lieu of a gift.  
Phoebe had accepted gratefully, but grimaced as she realized she had forgotten her sister's birthday yet again. Prue had assured her that Phoebe's mere presence was gift enough, and a fierce hug from her older sister made Phoebe believe it was really true.  
Phoebe was still waking each morning half-expecting to find herself back in the Halliwell manor, and everything she had experienced to be nothing more than a dream. But as the days passed, a sense of settling in began to take hold, and while Phoebe's sense of displacement was beginning to fade, it was hardly gone.  
Prue brushed some of the dust and grime off her t-shirt and wrinkled her nose. Phoebe gave her oldest sister a grateful smile.  
"You're going to an awful lot of trouble for me, Prue," she said quietly. "I don't know how to thank you."  
"Don't be ridiculous. You don't know anyone in the city, it's not like you have anyplace else to stay. And since you're going to be using the spare room as your bedroom, you shouldn't have to stare a wall full of boxes and packing cases all the time. I know it's small, but I want it to be your room, and sooner or later, you'll have clothes and other stuff of your own to fill it." She exhaled loudly, grateful to have a pause in the physical activity. "I should have gone through all this junk long ago. But with Patience around, I never seemed to find the time."  
"Oh, no?" Phoebe grinned as she pushed her sweat-streaked, copper-colored hair back from her face. "You can freeze time. I've seen you do it."  
"That's not true. Not like Piper could," Prue objected.  
"Oh, come on, Prue," Phoebe pleaded. "Aren't you the least bit interested in getting your magical powers back? Not even a little bit?"  
"No, Phoebe, no."  
"I could recite the incantation again. We don't need the Book of Shadows. I know all the words of the spell by heart. 'In this night and in this hour, I call upon the ancient power' -"  
"Phoebe Halliwell, don't you dare," Prue put a finger to her sister's lips, alarmed. "Don't you remember what happened the last time?"  
"Yeah, but that was hardly my fault, was it?"  
Phoebe was about to affect a mock sulk, but then her expression turned serious. "Prue, this world has no magical defenses. And we already know there's at least one demon out there who would like nothing more than to ring the dinner bell, and have him and all buddies show up to eat this entire city for lunch. Who's to say he won't try again? And what are we supposed to do if he does? Poke him with a broom, and hope he's allergic to straw?" She gave her sister a sly grin. "Wouldn't you rather open up a can of supernatural whoop-ass on him, and send his pimpled demon hide back where it came from, once and for all?"  
Prue couldn't help laughing at her sister's remark. "Okay, okay, I admit, sometimes it's tempting," she relented, walking to the kitchen to retrieve a pitcher of iced tea. "But - but -" she held up a hand. "Even assuming we could somehow cast the spell and get our powers back in a magical vacuum, the incantation is meant for three sisters. There's only two of us."  
She carefully poured tea into two glasses and handed one to her sister.  
"Where do you expect that third power to go? It can't just hover in the air. And I don't think we can share half a power, or only have the power on alternate days."  
"Yeah, okay, so there are problems with the plan," Phoebe admitted, adding a bendy straw to her glass and to Prue's. "But I don't think that means we shouldn't try." She fixed her sister with a placating look. "I feel lost without my powers, Prue. Ever since I got here, I feel like someone who used to see in color, and then suddenly went colorblind. Don't you feel like that, ever? Don't you feel that without your powers, you're somehow less than what you are? Less than what you could be?"  
Sensing the conversation was turning serious, Prue nodded towards the porch. "Let's go outside for a bit."  
Prue pushed back the sliding glass door, and the two sisters settled into chairs on the smallish porch with their glasses of tea. The late afternoon November day was unseasonably warm, the last trace of Indian summer, and Prue and Phoebe took advantage of the break to wipe some of the lingering sweat and dust from their arms and legs.  
"I'm just saying, we already know that there's a demon out there who can either cross realities himself, or, he has the means of affecting a crossing for others. We stopped him last time only because we got our powers back temporarily. But if he comes back, we may not be so lucky next time. I know if someone were trying to break into my house, I'd feel a lot better knowing I have a weapon to defend myself with."  
Prue fixed her sister with a sober stare. "It's not that I don't agree with you, Phoebe. I'm not saying no. What I'm saying is, I'm scared." Before Phoebe could say anything in reply, Prue raised a finger to her lips, shushing her. "I lost you once," she said softly. "I lost you all. Because of magic. I don't want to lose you again."  
She took a long sip on her tea. "I like the world with no magic in it," she declared finally, staring out into the street. "I like the fact that I can drop my daughter off at the day care, and not have to worry about trolls or ogres trying to kidnap her. I like being able to go to work every day and not have to worry about my boss morphing into a snarling demon with red skin and a bifurcated tail. I never have to look over my shoulder, and I sleep well at night."  
Phoebe digested all this quietly. "So you're saying you never want to be a witch again, ever?"  
Prue pursed her lips. "I'm saying, I would have to know in my heart that we were doing the right thing. Because it frightens me, Phoebe."  
"How could you possibly be frightened, having more power than you have now?" Phoebe pointed out. "With your powers, you can defend Patience, and Darryl, and me, from almost any menace there is, and still sleep well at night."  
Prue didn't reply immediately, sucking thoughtfully at her straw. Phoebe watched her wistfully for a moment, then began: "My Prue -"  
"Ah, ah," Prue held up a hand. "Remember, we agreed. No baggage about our 'other' sisters."  
"All I was going to say was, my - the other Prue," Phoebe corrected herself carefully, "She was always trying to hide her powers. Not just from others, but from herself. But the sad thing is, in our coven, she was the most powerful of us all. There was literally nothing she couldn't do, if she believed she could do it."  
Prue reached over and gave her sister's hand a squeeze. "Like I said, I'm not saying 'no, not ever'," she assured her. "But... I need time to think about it."  
"You know I'm going to keep asking you," Phoebe noodged.  
"Keep asking me," Prue urged her. "Make me believe in the rightness of it, Phoebe, really believe it, and I promise, I will embrace magic again, with all my heart."  
A sly smile snaked across Phoebe's lips. "You're on," she said, as if accepting a dare.  
There was a scuffling at the front door, and Prue leaped up. "Come on, Darryl and Patience are back with lunch. I'm starving."  
The front door of the apartment opened, and in walked Prue's boyfriend Darryl Morris, a tall, attractive man in his early thirties, and Prue's four year old daughter, Patience. Darryl was weighted down under several bags of groceries while Patience had charge of her own cup of fruit juice with a straw.  
"Where did you go?" Prue asked as she saw all the bags. "I was starting to get worried."  
"We just swung by the grocery, to pick up a few things," Darryl started to explain, setting the bags down on the floor. His response was interrupted by a passionate kiss from Prue. Being a good head shorter in height, she practically had to stand on tiptoe and tilt her head back to reach him. Darryl inclined his head towards hers and their kiss was long and ardent.  
Patience ran into her auntie's arms for an extended hug.  
"Your mommy kisses Darryl a lot, doesn't she?" Phoebe asked her niece.  
"Yeah," Patience replied, placing a stranglehold around Phoebe's neck.  
"Really? Do you like it when she does that?"  
"Yeah," Patience repeated emphatically. "He makes mommy happy."  
Phoebe watched the ardor of her sister's embrace with something approaching wistfulness. "I guess he does," she grinned.  
Prue and Darryl finally ended their kiss, but not their embrace, and for the moment, it was clear they had eyes for no one but each other. The rest of the world might have dropped away entirely, and neither would have noticed.  
"Come on, kiddo," Phoebe told Patience. "Looks like you and me are on grocery patrol."  
She scooped up the discarded bags, grunting slightly under their collective weight, lugging them into the kitchen while Patience followed.  
"Darryl, that was sweet, you didn't have to do that, really," Prue murmured, still enfolded in her lover's muscular arms.  
"Happy to," Darryl replied. "I know it's been a really weird couple of weeks, with Phoebe coming back and all, and I know you haven't had time to do any shopping."  
"I'll pay you back," Prue offered, but Darryl shook his head.  
"Uh-uh," he declared. "I know how tight your budget is, even before you decided you were taking in lodgers." He gave Prue a knowing smile. "There is one payment I'll accept from you," he said, and Prue grinned. "One hundred kisses."  
"One hundred and one," Prue declared, kissing him again. "That's your interest," she declared with a happy sigh.  
Phoebe was busily unpacking groceries and sorting them into their proper shelves as Prue and Darryl ambled into the kitchen, still hand in hand. Prue's smile stretched ear to ear, and Phoebe grinned to see it.  
"Darryl, you're a lifesaver," Phoebe declared. "I think we were down to our last can of beans and franks."  
"Glad to help," Darryl replied sincerely. "So, you've decided to stay after all."  
"Yeah, I guess I'm kind of stuck here," Phoebe admitted, shaking the wrapped burgers out of a massive paper sack. "So I'm going to make the best of it. I'm just glad my sister is here to look after me," she added, with a knowing glance at Prue.  
"So, you're working now?"  
"Yup, started last week. Next weekend I'll have my first paycheck." Phoebe grinned. "I'm really looking forward to that."  
She pulled out the celery and peppers and prepared to put them in the crisper. "Ooh, that looks like stir fry tomorrow night," she declared happily.  
"So, where are you working again?" Darryl asked.  
"For the city. In that big office downtown. They have an office for the social workers, the ones who deal with juvenile offenders. I'm in the clerical pool."  
Darryl nodded. "I know a few of the officers in Juvie. They're a good bunch."  
"I'm just starting to get introduced to them," Phoebe admitted. "There's really only one person there so far that I kind of know."  
"This is the girl you told me about?" Prue asked, and Phoebe nodded.  
"Her name's Paige Matthews. She's a sort of floor manager, overseeing all the clerical staff. She's not really my boss, but she is the one showing me the ropes. She's pretty cool. In fact, she and I are going out shopping together on my first payday." Phoebe pumped a playfully triumphant fist in the air.  
"Sounds like you're settling in," Darryl smiled.  
"Well, I don't know if I want to be in an office pool as a career," Phoebe demurred. "But I'm glad I have a job, and be able to help pay at least some of the bills. I have to start somewhere." She began sorting through the wrapped piles. "Okay, who had the cheeseburger with pickles?"  
"Mine," Prue declared. "You should bring Paige around sometime. I'd like to meet her."  
"I'll do that," Phoebe nodded.  
The conversation ground to a contented halt for a time, as the Halliwells gathered around the kitchen table, passing burgers, fries, iced tea and condiments around.  
"Mmf, this is great, Darryl," Phoebe murmured between bites of her burger. "We were starving. Thanks!"  
The phone in the living room rang, and Phoebe still found the sound of the rotary dial phone curiously distracting. In this reality, there were no cell phones or laptop computers or any device that didn't come with miles of fat wires. It seemed a curious anachronism, one of many that Phoebe was struggling to adjust to.  
"I think that's for me," Darryl said to Prue, standing up. "I told the desk sergeant he could reach me at your number today, if anything came up."  
He ambled into the living room and picked up the receiver. "Hello? Hey, Mike."  
In spite of herself, Prue's face fell, and Phoebe noted her sister's crestfallen expression.  
"I'm guessing that's work calling," she observed quietly.  
Prue managed a disappointed shrug of the shoulders. "I can't complain. Any time Darryl's not working, he's looking after me." She glanced back to gauge the length of the conversation, then turned to Phoebe. "You wouldn't mind it if he spent the night, would you?"  
Phoebe affected a moue of nonchalance. "It's your apartment, Prue. You don't need my permission to sleep with your boyfriend."  
"Yeah, but it's your apartment now, too," Prue declared emphatically. "I just didn't want to disturb you... well... we might get a little... loud," she admitted, suddenly feeling embarrassed, and her cheeks flushed. Phoebe's grin went from ear to ear.  
"What?" Prue asked, her face still glowing red.  
"You and Darryl. It's so sweet." She wrinkled her nose at her sister playfully, and then her look turned wistful. "You're happy with him, Prue. Happier than I've ever seen you," she said softly. "It's really good to see."  
Darryl put down the phone and came back into the kitchen. "Sorry," he sighed, and his look was nearly as deflated as Prue's. "Got a murder victim over in Tenderloin. Gotta go check it out."  
"Will you be back later?" Prue asked hopefully.  
Darryl made a helpless shrug of the shoulders. "I don't know, Prue," he said honestly, and then he sighed again. "I knew it was getting too quiet around here. Too good to last."  
"Well, I for one have been enjoying the peace and calm," Prue said, with a significant glance at her sister. Phoebe silently put a hand to her heart in a protestation of innocence.  
Prue got up from the table and hugged Darryl tightly. "You be careful out there," she admonished him in a voice near to a whisper.  
"Always," Darryl declared with great sincerity, and followed that up with a quick kiss. He then leaned over to kiss Patience on the head, and gave a wave to Phoebe.  
"Nice to see you again, Phoebe. Look after your sister." He gave Prue one final peck. "I'll call when I can," he promised, and headed for the door.  
"Catch you later, Darryl," Phoebe called after him. "Thanks for lunch!"  
"Any time," came Darryl's reply as he closed the door behind him.  
"Oh, don't look so crushed, Prue," Phoebe told her sister as she sat back down at the table. "There will be other nights."  
"Yeah, I know," Prue admitted, and forced herself to smile. "I am lucky to have him. I know that."  
"Got him on a string," Phoebe growled playfully.  
"Phoebe Halliwell, you are naughty!" Prue laughed heartily, and once again, Phoebe was struck by the difference in temperament between this version of Prue and her own "real" sister, who was unknown miles or even unknown worlds away. The change was still quite jarring, but Phoebe found herself feeling a great bond growing with her "new" sister, and wanting nothing more than to strengthen and nurture that bond.  
It was also obvious to Phoebe that her unexpected arrival had caused a temporary interruption in her sister's courtship, and although Prue had taken great pains to downplay any inconvenience or hardship, she clearly wanted to resume her intimacy with Darryl as soon as possible. Phoebe resolved to make certain nothing she did was going to interrupt her sister's happiness.  
"Look, plan your... ess... eee... eks... marathon for any night when both of you are free," Phoebe suggested, keeping one wary eye on Patience. "And don't worry about disturbing me. I'll keep some earplugs in my nightstand." She grinned. "I'll even offer to drop Patience off at day care the morning after, in case you want to, uh, sleep in."  
"You would do that?" Prue's face brightened hopefully.  
"Sure, of course I would. It's the least I can do, Prue. You're letting me live under your roof for free. And it's not the first time you've done that." She leaned over and gave her niece a kiss on the cheek. "You'd let your auntie take you to day care, wouldn't you, sweetie?"  
"Yeah!" Patience crowed happily. She had more or less finished her meal, and had spent most of the last few minutes contentedly smearing catsup on the kitchen table.  
"Don't do that, sweetie," Prue caught her daughter's busy hand in hers with an exasperated sigh. "No playing with your food, remember?"

Darryl's nondescript sedan pulled up a block from the alleyway, the rest of the street barricaded by a pair of black-and-white police cruisers. Stepping from the car, he flashed his identification to the beat officer, who nodded and waved him through the cordon.  
"Nice of you to call me on my day off, Kershaw," he greeted the detective who was standing near a body sprawled in the alley.  
"Give it up, Morris. You're a city homicide detective. There are no days off for guys like us," the detective named Kershaw took his hand in a perfunctory handshake.  
"Yeah, don't I know it," Darryl grumbled. "What'cha got?"  
"You tell me," Kershaw muttered. "M.E.'s on his way. It's not pretty," he warned, as Darryl knelt beside the body.  
The body was an older man's, possibly in his mid-fifties, laying on his side and facing a brick wall. Darryl shrugged his hands into gloves automatically, and then gently turned the victim's face slightly upwards.  
"Jesus," Darryl muttered under his breath.  
"Toldjya," said Kershaw. "Don't know if that's the cause of death or not, but I sure bet it didn't make him happy. Tell me, Morris, what kind of sicko you think digs out somebody's eyes with what looks like a grapefruit spoon?"  
Darryl Morris rested back on his heels, torn between revulsion and resignation. "Yeah, it was getting too quiet around here," he muttered to himself. "I really should know better."

* * * 

Phoebe Halliwell pulled her long coat tight around her and shivered. Scarcely a week had passed since she and her sister Prue had cleaned out the spare room in Prue's apartment, and on that day, they had sweltered in t-shirts and shorts under an unusually warm Indian summer sun.  
Now, however, more seasonable weather had fallen over the city, and at least to Phoebe the air seemed bitterly cold. Dark clouds scudded across the sky, and there was a hint of rain in the air.  
Phoebe turned to her dark-haired companion and smiled. "Thanks for coming shopping with me, Paige."  
"Are you kidding?" Paige Matthews grinned. "Is there any other meaning to life?"  
"Boys?" Phoebe suggested.  
The two young women were ambling casually up the streets in the direction of Chinatown, stopping and peering in many of the windows of shops as they passed. Paige, small and delicate, was similarly attired for the weather, but almost entirely disappeared under her long winter coat and scarf.  
"Yeah, you're new in town," Paige mused. "Probably don't have anyone waiting at home yet, huh?"  
"I do," Phoebe laughed. "Just not a guy."  
"Are you looking?" Paige asked, seriously.  
Phoebe shook her head. "No. Not yet."  
"Why not?"  
Phoebe grimaced. "Ugh, don't get me started. My whole world has been turned upside-down in the last month. I'm still trying to find some bits of myself."  
"A good, sweaty grapple will fix that," Paige arched an eyebrow playfully.  
"Will you stop?" Phoebe laughed. "You're supposed to be helping me look for stuff, not take my mind off looking for stuff."  
"Right. Sorry. So what is it we're supposed to be looking for?"  
"We're looking for a book, a blank book, with a leather binding."  
"A blank book," Paige repeated, not entirely comprehending.  
"Right. One that I can write in."  
"But, you can get one of those at any bookstore," Paige objected. "Can't you?"  
"Not this kind, I can't. It has to be... special."  
"Oh? And what has to be so 'special' about it?"  
Phoebe paused. "This is going to sound stupid," she said, suddenly feeling self-conscious.  
"Try me."  
"It has to be a book of magic."  
"A book of magic, uh-huh."  
"Are you going to repeat everything I say?" Phoebe grinned.  
"Well, it might help if anything you said made any sense," Paige retorted playfully.  
"Okay - it's like this," Phoebe tried haltingly to explain. "My grandmother... she used to have this book of witchcraft. It was a handmade book that was bound in leather by one of the family ancestors. And every generation of the family would write a few pages in it."  
"But you don't have this book any more," Paige intuited.  
"It was lost - uh, in a fire," Phoebe answered, decided that an explanation of an explosion of magic was probably not needed at this point in the conversation. "Anyway, this book was irreplaceable - it contained spells and recipes for magic potions and a lot of family history."  
"So what does that have to do with you getting a new book?"  
"Well, I thought I would try to... carry on the tradition," Phoebe shrugged. "I can't recreate the original book word for word, but, I can start a new one, and I can write down whatever I remember from the original, so my daughters, and their daughters, can pick up at least a little of the thread of the family history."  
"A family full of witches?" Paige asked. "You're not really into that kind of stuff, are you?"  
"Witchcraft, you mean? Yeah, I guess I kind of am," Phoebe admitted with a nervous laugh. "That's not too weird, is it? I mean, I'm not chasing UFOs, or wearing a tin foil hat, or anything. It's not too bizarre. Right?" She gave her companion a pleading look.  
Paige digested all this carefully. "So, you practice black magic," she said at last.  
"Not black magic, no. I'm what you'd call a white witch - or, at least, I was," Phoebe added with a note of sadness. "I, ah, really don't practice any more."  
"So, you want to find a handbound book with a leather binding, with blank pages, to write down spells of witchcraft that you don't practice anymore," Paige summarized. "Oh, and it has to be 'special'," she added, wiggling her fingers as quote marks for emphasis. "Does that sound about right?"  
Phoebe rolled her eyes. "It sounds stupid when you put it like that," she admitted. "But, yeah. That's my shopping mission for today."  
Paige shrugged. "All right."  
"Really? You don't mind?"  
"Sure, why not? What else am I doing today? But you know, it's normal to spend your first paycheck on clothes," she remarked with a playful grin.  
"Yeah, well, I need lots of those, too," Phoebe sighed. "Everything I'm wearing belongs to my sister."  
"I don't know, that's a pretty nice coat and boots you've got on."  
"Thanks. But it's all Prue's. I owe everything to her," Phoebe said thoughtfully. "I arrived in San Francisco with absolutely nothing, not even a change of clothes, and she has been... beyond generous to me. I have no idea how I can ever repay her for what's she doing, the sacrifices she's making for me."  
"Sounds like the two of you are really close."  
Phoebe smiled wistfully. "Prue's my rock," she admitted. "I would be lost without her."  
"That's so cool," Paige nodded, almost jealous. "I don't have any brothers and sisters. I always wondered what it would be like, to have siblings."  
"Only child?" Phoebe asked.  
"Adopted," Paige replied. "I have no idea who my birth parents were."  
"Ooh," Phoebe winced. "Sorry. That's not a sensitive subject, is it?"  
Paige smiled warmly. "Not at all. I love my foster parents very much. They retired last year, and moved to Carmel. I stayed in San Francisco, because, well, it's home." Her look turned wistful. "It would be nice to have some family around, though. You're lucky. You have a sister and a niece. And it sounds like they adore you."  
"I adore them. So, you have no one here at all?"  
"My boyfriend, Henry. He's a cop."  
"Really? My sister's boyfriend is a homicide detective."  
"Well, then, all we need to do is find a nice policeman for you to settle down with, too," Paige quipped. "And then we'll all have our handsome, rugged law and order men to keep us out of trouble." She gave Phoebe a wicked grin. "Or get us into trouble."  
Phoebe laughed heartily. "You have a one-track mind, Paige."  
"That's not true," Paige protested vehemently. "Sometimes I think about food, too."  
The two friends wandered their way up the streets in leisurely fashion, but after visiting two stationery shops and an antique dealer, they were no closer to Phoebe's goal.  
They found a brightly lit, cheerful restaurant squeezed into a tiny corner of a crumbling building, and enjoyed some traditional dim sum and hot tea, warming themselves from the chill outside, watching the reflections of passers-by distorted in the steamed-over windows.  
As the server brought the teapot and the steamer baskets, Phoebe reached for her teacup.  
"Ah, ah," Paige tutted. "Allow me. It's tradition, with dim sum, to fill your companion's teacup before you fill your own." She expertly poured the steaming brew into Phoebe's cup.  
"Thanks," Phoebe grinned.  
"Not like that," Paige remonstrated gently. "To give thanks, tap your index finger. Like this." She demonstrated the gesture on the table. "Since we're both single, we would use only the index finger. If we were married, we would tap with both the index and middle fingers."  
"This is really a custom?" Phoebe asked, grinning as she repeated the gesture.  
"It symbolizes bowing to the other person in gratitude when bowing isn't practical," Paige assured her.  
"Seriously?"  
"Yup. The story goes, one day the Emperor of China wanted to go out to yum cha with his friends..."  
"Yum cha?" Phoebe asked.  
"It literally means, drink tea. It's a semi-formal ceremony. Anyway, the Emperor didn't want to be recognized in public, so he wore a disguise. While at yum cha, he had to pour tea, which was a great honor for the men who were with him. Normally in that situation, the men were expected to get up and bow. But since the Emperor and his friends were incognito, each man tapped his finger on the table as a sign of appreciation instead, so as not to give away the Emperor's true identity in public."  
"You seem to know a lot about Chinese culture."  
Paige shrugged noncommittally. "Not really. But when you spend a lot of time in Chinatown, like I do, you tend to pick up on some things."  
As they finished their meal, Phoebe seemed somewhat despondent at not having found her desired goal, and Paige attempted to rally her.  
"Okay, I can see finding this book really does mean a lot to you," she remarked, gently blowing on her teacup. "But it is getting late. There's still a couple of streets worth of shops, right up the corner from here. We could look through there." As Phoebe looked up hopefully from her plate, Paige cautioned, "You'd better speak Cantonese or Mandarin, though. We're getting pretty deep into 'Little China' now. These aren't the streets for tourists. A lot of the folks around here really won't know much English."  
"I can make weird, gawking gestures, and wave dollar bills," Phoebe remarked. "Think that will translate into Chinese?"  
Paige grinned. "Money need no translation, mistress," she intoned in singsong cant, steepling her hands and inclining her head in a mock bow.  
Phoebe burst out laughing. "I'm so glad I met you," she said. "You are seriously weird - in a really good way."  
"Yeah, well, right back atcha, witchy woman," Paige needled playfully.  
After finishing their tea, the two friends went back out to the streets. The temperature had dropped drastically in the last hour, and there was a biting chill in the air. And since it was late in the day, all the sidewalks were in shadow, with not a hint of sun to warm them.  
Phoebe shivered. "Okay. One last run up this street, and if we don't find anything, we'll call it a day."  
"Agreed," Paige nodded, wrinkling her nose at the cold.  
"Hey, maybe you'd like to come to the apartment after this?" Phoebe suggested hopefully. "We could have a couple of beers, or a glass of wine."  
"Hot tea?" Paige suggested hopefully.  
Phoebe shrugged agreeably. "Sure, if you'd rather. And you could meet my sister."  
"Is she a witch, too?" Paige grinned.  
"She, uh, says there's no such thing as witches," Phoebe answered carefully. In Phoebe's version of San Francisco, her witchcraft had to be kept a closely-guarded secret. Apparently in this reality, there was no such taboo, but Phoebe found it difficult to change old habits. Paige sensed that Phoebe was dancing around the subject, so she changed it.  
"So, what does your sister do, when she's not busy pretending she's not a witch?"  
Phoebe made a playful face at her friend. "She works at an auction house. She helps sell paintings and sculptures and stuff like that. She knows pretty much all there is to know about art history, of any culture, any country, any era. She's probably one of the smartest people I've ever met. She loves anything old - books, music, paintings - even wine. But she's not a snob about any of it."  
"Damn," Paige whistled. "Is she rich?"  
"Not really," Phoebe laughed heartily. "Although, in her line of work, I guess she gets to rub shoulders with some very wealthy people. But she's about as down to earth as it gets. What matters most to her in life is her daughter and her boyfriend. She'd much rather be down on the floor playing with blocks and dolls with Patience, than eating pate and drinking champagne with the rich and famous."  
"And the boyfriend, the homicide detective, is he a soon to be husband?"  
"Maybe," Phoebe admitted. "They do seem to be pretty serious."  
"Hmm. Maybe you are going to be needing a new place to live in the near future." Phoebe felt a twinge of panic at that chance remark, but tried not to show it. Paige seemed to intuit her feeling. "You know, my lease expires in about four months, and I'll be looking for a new place, too," she offered. "And if your sister wants to move in with the boyfriend, maybe you and I... could share a place together?"  
Phoebe hesitated a moment before answering. "What, aren't you going to move in with your boyfriend?" she responded, trying to make her tone playful.  
"Maybe, one day," Paige nodded thoughtfully. "But we're still at 'sleepover' phase right now. A little too soon for cribs and diapers just yet, I think."  
"Do you want to have children?" Phoebe asked, genuinely curious.  
"Yeah, I do, someday. You?" When Phoebe hesitated, Paige added, "You did mention wanting to leave a magical heirloom for your daughters and granddaughters. Sounds to me like you planning on having at least one kid."  
"Yeah, I suppose I am," Phoebe nodded, feeling disquieted and not sure why. "I guess... the idea of having kids hasn't really sunk in yet."  
"Well, don't wait until you're ready, otherwise you never will be," Paige said, with conviction. "Hey, this place looks promising."  
They were passing in front of a shop window that had all manner of antiques and trinkets displayed. Paige furrowed her brow at the writing in Chinese above the door.  
"I think... this is an occult shop," she said finally, but not entirely certain.  
"You read Chinese?"  
"Cantonese. A little." She gave Phoebe an appraising look. "Hey, you wanted to find a book of magic. Seems as good a place as any to try."  
"All right." Phoebe said gamely. "I guess it won't hurt to look around."  
"We hope," Paige retorted, and then raised her arms and wailed like a ghost. "Wooo! Beeeware! Everything in this place has a curse on it!"  
Phoebe burst out laughing. "Oh, stop it," she protested. "You're making my sides ache."  
They entered the shop, and their arrival was announced by a tiny bell on a pull that jingled as the door opened. Phoebe looked around expectantly. The shop seemed entirely too small, and lent a claustrophobic feeling although there were at least three large tables lined with various items across the floor, and every wall was bedecked with totems or arcane artifacts, the function or nature of which, Phoebe couldn't even presume to guess at. The atmosphere seemed stifling; the chill from outside followed them in, but the air was preternaturally still. It was as dank as a crypt. Phoebe found herself having to consciously draw a breath.  
A wizened old man, in flowing robes with braids and ornate designs on the sleeves, nodded his head to them and mumbled some incoherent greeting.  
"Wow! You look just like David Carradine," Phoebe marveled, staring at the shopkeeper. He frowned at her in utter bafflement, and Phoebe winced. "Sorry," she grimaced. "Wrong reality. Never mind. Forget I said anything." She gesticulated vaguely behind her. "We're just going to have a look around," she announced in a needlessly loud and slow voice. If the shopkeeper understood any of this, he made no sign. Phoebe turned to Paige.  
"He didn't understand a word I just said, did he?"  
"Probably not," Paige grinned.  
Phoebe made a moue of exasperation. "Okay, let's just get out of here."  
"Hey, we're here, let's at least have a look 'round," Paige suggested. "If we don't find what we're looking for, we'll know in a minute."  
Feeling somehow this was against her better judgment, Phoebe agreed, and started looking half-heartedly around the table directly in front of her, lifting the objects and staring at them with absolutely no comprehension.  
"Hey! Look at this," Paige called. She was smiling broadly, holding up an impossibly old, nearly mouldering book. "Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have a winner!"  
Forgetting her anxiety for moment, Phoebe let her curiosity get the better of her. "Let me see that," she pleaded, and Paige handed the book over.  
The book was large, nearly two feet across in both height and width, and nearly four inches think. The cover and binding was embossed leather, with a clasp that appeared to be made of tarnished gold, and a delicate chain that held a key for the lock.  
"Wow," Phoebe breathed in admiration, and a slow grin crossed her face. "Paige, I think you really found something."  
"Yeah, I did, but is it the something you want?" Paige asked pointedly.  
Phoebe gingerly wiped the book's cover of a thick layer of dust, and found a stylized triquetra in raised leather on its front.  
"Paige! You hit the jackpot!" Phoebe breathed with growing excitement.  
"Really," Paige said dryly, and gave Phoebe a needling grin. "Is it 'special' enough for you?"  
"Look at this," Phoebe insisted, pointing at the cover. "That's a sort of - oh, what is the term? Prue would know. Aarrgh! 'Vesicae Piscis' - I think that's it."  
"Fish scales?" Paige wrinkled her nose.  
Phoebe floundered helplessly. "Uhm, ah, an intersection of circles or triangles," she sputtered. "With a circle at the center, connecting them all. You know. This thing," she declared, stabbing at the triquetra with her finger. "It means, the power of three."  
Paige shrugged. "If you say so. Is that important?"  
"That," Phoebe announced with absolute certainty, "is our secret ingredient!" Her face broke into a broad smile. "You found it, Paige, you really found it!" She gave Paige a quick hug in her exuberance. She opened the book carefully and leafed through the heavy, cream-colored pages, which were darkening at the edges with age. "This is exactly what I was looking for!"  
"Great, mission accomplished," Paige grinned.  
Phoebe turned to address the shopkeeper. "How much?" she asked, pointing at the book.  
"Sorry, Pheeble, he hasn't learned any more English in the five minutes since you last spoke to him," Paige teased.  
Undaunted, Phoebe removed her wallet from her purse and approached the old man. She took out some dollar bills, hoping he would comprehend she was wanting to buy. "You.. tell me... how much," Phoebe intoned, holding up the money, then pointing at the book. "For this."  
The shopkeeper did not even incline his gaze.  
"Uh, I don't think you're getting through to him, Phoebe," Paige observed.  
"Tell me, please," Phoebe hoped her pleading tone might cross some of the translation barrier, "What do you want for this book?"  
The shopkeeper narrowed his gaze and focused on Phoebe's face. He cocked his head slightly, and then nodded.  
"The demon who travels seeks you," he said, in perfectly phrased English.  
Phoebe drew back, startled. "Sorry, what?"  
"He has red eyes, but cannot see."  
Phoebe couldn't think of a single thing to say, and stood there open-mouthed. Paige came to her rescue.  
"Okay, I think we've established that there's no more language barrier here," she declared, and then addressed the shopkeeper. "How much do you want for the book, sir?"  
The shopkeeper did not move his gaze from Phoebe's face. "He seeks you... and your sisters."  
Phoebe began to feel the hairs on the back of her neck tingling. "Okay, how did you know that?" she demanded in a quaking voice.  
"How does he know what?" Paige frowned. "Look, do you want to sell us the book, or don't you?"  
The shopkeeper finally turned his head ever so slightly to look at Paige, and the movement was so brittle it was as if his neck would snap if he were to turn his head any more quickly.  
"The blood of your blood is before you," he said politely.  
Paige thought that over for a minute, and then tugged at Phoebe's sleeve. "You know what, Phoebe, I think I'm just going to wait outside," she declared.  
"What do you know about the demon who travels?" Phoebe demanded of the shopkeeper, genuinely frightened but determined to know.  
"Twenty dollars."  
"What?"  
"The book. Twenty dollars."  
"Phoebe, just pay him, and let's go," Paige quavered.  
Phoebe's gaze turned thoughtful. She held up a twenty dollar bill, but before the shopkeeper could take it, she pulled her hand back slightly. "How do I protect my sister?" she demanded. "How do I protect my niece? How do I keep the demon away from them?" Phoebe's fright was giving a rising edge of anger to her voice.  
The shopkeeper regarded her with an almost tender smile. He shrugged. "You already know the answer to these questions," he said simply.  
"Phoebe, let's just go," Paige pleaded.  
Sensing nothing more would be revealed to her, Phoebe reluctantly held out the money. The shopkeeper took the bill into his desiccated fingers, which seemed to be more like rotted twigs than human flesh, and he smiled again.  
"Have a nice day," he said politely.  
Moments later, the two women were back out on the street.  
"That does it," Phoebe fumed to herself, "I'm going straight home, and making Prue give me my powers back!"  
"Okay, Phoebe, I have to ask," Paige said breathlessly, "What the hell was that all about?"  
"You heard him. The demon who travels seeks me and my sisters."  
"Yeah, I heard that, but what does it mean?"  
"I'm supposed to know?"  
"I thought you were supposed to be a witch," Paige protested. "Or used to be one. Don't all you supernatural types speak the same damn code words, or something?"  
Phoebe grimaced. "Paige, I need to go home. Right now."  
"You're really freaked out," Paige marveled, and then gestured incredulously with her thumb behind them. "By that? A little old guy in a dressing gown?"  
"Hey, you were freaked out, too," Phoebe retorted hotly.  
"Yeah, but _I'm_ not a witch," Paige countered. "What, little Miss I-Used-To-Cast-Spells-For-A-Living is freaked out because some dude in an antique shop used the word 'demon'?"  
Phoebe started to argue, then thought better of it. "Paige, let's... go home, okay?" she sighed heavily. "Let's just go home."  
"All right," Paige shuddered.  
They started walking down the sidewalk at a brisk pace, Phoebe holding her new book tightly under one arm. As the young women hurried down the street, neither noticed that a pair of coal-red eyes was intently watching them from the gathering darkness.

* * * 

"All the same, Prue, I wish you'd heard it," Phoebe Halliwell said to her sister. "What he said certainly sounded demonic."  
Phoebe was standing in the bathroom beside Prue, recounting her encounter at the occult shop, while her sister was getting ready for her night out.  
"Well, I doubt very much he could be a demon, Phoebe, based on what you told me." Prue was preoccupied with applying her lipstick in the bathroom mirror. "There are all kinds of... people... in San Francisco who used to be magical beings, but aren't any more. Especially in Chinatown. But that doesn't mean they can't still intuit magical influences. Trust me, what your shopkeeper said to you sounds like a well-intentioned warning, not a threat."  
"But you don't think it's real."  
Prue put down her lipstick so she could look Phoebe in the eye. "I think the threat is very real," she said quietly. "In fact, I think we can now safely assume that your demon with the ring is here, in this reality somewhere, and this man was trying to warn you about it."  
"But we saw the ring destroyed," Phoebe objected.  
"We saw a ring destroyed," Prue corrected her.  
"If the demon's trapped here, wouldn't he lose his powers too, like I did?"  
"I certainly hope so."  
"So, now can we cast the incantation?" Phoebe pleaded. "Ask to receive our powers again?"  
Prue hesitated for a moment.  
"If you think the danger is real..." Phoebe pressed.  
"Okay, Phoebe, you win," Prue relented. "If there really is a demon on the loose, empowered or not, we stand a much better chance of dealing with him as witches, not as women."  
"Now you're talking!"  
Prue held up a hand. "Not tonight," she said firmly. Phoebe grinned.  
"It's not the reason you're thinking, Phoebe," Prue managed a smile. "Assuming there is still a residue of magic we can tap into, it will be strongest on a full moon. I think there's one coming up in another week or so. Your job - " she deliberately made her tone lighter - "Is to find us that date for certain. That's the night we'll try it."  
"Thanks, Prue," Phoebe smiled with relief. "You won't be sorry, I promise. And if you weren't about to spend the night being ravaged, I would kiss you."  
Prue grinned, but then her look turned serious. "Phoebe, I think you should prepare yourself for the possibility that the incantation may not work. There may not be enough magic left for it to have any effect."  
"Yeah, but we have nothing to lose by trying."  
"Agreed," Prue nodded thoughtfully.  
"Okay, well, if you'll just let me borrow your com..." Phoebe sputtered to a halt.  
"Sorry, my what?" Prue cocked her head quizzically.  
"Sorry." A moue of irritation crossed Phoebe's face. "I was going to ask to borrow your computer, so I could look up the lunar cycles on the internet. I keep forgetting, you don't have one."  
Prue shook her head. "What is this 'internet' you keep going on about?"  
"Never mind," Phoebe sighed with exasperation. "It doesn't exist here yet. But I have to tell you, Prue, rules of personal gain aside, we need to find any companies here that are creating computers or software, and invest every extra penny we have in them. When the digital revolution finally happens here, trust me, we'll be billionaires!"  
Prue gave her younger sister a tempering smile. "The rules about personal gain apply to all life's situations, Phoebe. Not just the magical ones."  
"Okay, okay," Phoebe made a mock dramatic sigh, and then she grinned. "Why are you bothering putting on your best dress? You're just going to be slipping out of it in a couple of hours."  
"That would be nice," Prue admitted, critically appraising her own appearance in the mirror. "I think we'll be home sooner than we planned. Darryl called earlier, and we agreed we'd just rather have a quiet dinner, and call it an early night."  
"What you mean is, you're ready for the all-nighter," Phoebe teased her sister gently.  
Prue's shy smile went from ear to ear. "That's the plan, yeah. We missed my birthday. I told Darryl all I really wanted for a gift was a night alone with him."  
"That was my fault," Phoebe said contritely.  
"Oh, hush!" Prue remonstrated. "We've been over this. It's not like you asked to get dumped here."  
"Well, fear not, your babysitter is on the job," Phoebe declared emphatically. "And I'm on standby to take Patience to day care tomorrow morning, in case you're 'sleeping in'." She grinned. "I also know how to completely disappear in two seconds, as soon as I hear the key in the door."  
Prue gave her sister an appreciative smile. "I don't know how to thank you for this, Phoebe. It means a lot."  
"Well, no more abstinence on my account, okay?" Phoebe said. "Life is hard enough, without denying yourself basic pleasures. And don't worry, I have a little project of my own that I can work on in the privacy of my own room, while you guys are... uh, busy."  
Prue gave her sister an appraising look.  
"No, I'm not bringing a guy home, too," Phoebe growled in mock dismay, and then grinned. "Not yet, anyway."  
"Well, I could hardly say no to that, could I?" Prue grinned.  
"If I do meet someone I'd like to bring home, I want you to meet him first," Phoebe said, utterly serious. Then she laughed. "If for no other reason, so you don't brain him in the head with a baseball bat. You know, when you find a complete stranger in your kitchen raiding your fridge in the middle of the night."  
"Good point," Prue admitted, smiling. "I thought you were going to bring Paige by this afternoon."  
"I was, but after what happened today, we both felt a little weird. And besides, this is your big night. I can bring her by some other time."  
Prue straightened herself and faced her sister. "Okay," she exhaled nervously. "How do I look?"  
A slow, sly grin crept across Phoebe's face. "You look like you might not make it through dinner," she laughed.  
"Seriously? Am I good?"  
"Better than good," Phoebe assured her. "You're hot. Really, Prue. You look amazing."  
Prue sighed with relief.  
"Relax, Prue. Darryl can barely keep his hands off you when you're wearing jeans, sweatshirt and no makeup. When he sees you like this, all come-hither in your little black dress, you might just skip dinner completely."  
"I could live with that," Prue grinned.  
Phoebe's smiled faded. "You know, I would almost prefer it if you guys just stayed here," she said quietly. "If there's still a demon out there looking for us."  
Prue nodded in agreement. "I think... if your demon knew where to find us, and he still had all his powers, he would have tried something by now," she reasoned. "But you're right, we should be extra careful." She gave her sister a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, we won't be gone long. We'll come straight home, and the only thing you'll need to worry about is us keeping you awake all night."  
Phoebe laughed. "Those problems, I can deal with."  
The laughter Phoebe shared with her sister did little to assuage her fears, once Darryl and Prue left for dinner. But determined not to worry unduly, Phoebe enlisted Patience's help in dressing her mother's room with a dozen roses in a large jade-colored vase, secreted away earlier in the day, a bottle of champagne on ice with two crystal flutes, and four small plastic bottles filled with water.  
"A bridal bed should have rose petals," Phoebe informed Patience, and they carefully parted one of the blooms and scattered the petals over the bed. Their work done, Phoebe helped her niece through a quick bath and change into bedclothes, then they retired to the living room, where Phoebe read to Patience the story of a swordswoman of the Highlands, who found a child of the stars fallen from the heavens wandering alone on the moors, and raised the child as her own. Patience dropped off to sleep long before the story came to its close, and Phoebe carried her to bed, tucked her in, and kissed her forehead.  
Before putting out the light, Phoebe stood at the doorway for a moment, studying her sister's child. The enormity of it struck Phoebe. In this time, in this place, her sister had married, and within a year, had a child with her husband. This child. Her niece. With fine dark hair and a face that would grow to be much like her mother's. And then, shortly after the child had reached her first birthday, her Aunt Phoebe had killed her father, her aunt Piper and uncle Leo, and left her with only a mother to call family. She, Phoebe Halliwell - or rather, her doppelgänger - had left her sister a widow.  
Apart from the day they'd first met, whatever terror or ill feeling Prue had for her original sister Phoebe was completely dismissed; she had shown nothing but love, tenderness and affection to this "new" sister who could not possibly help but remind her of the sister who had slain all her loved ones. Even without supernatural powers, Phoebe thought sadly, this Prudence Halliwell - Trudeau, she corrected herself - was nothing less than magic, a being of extraordinary kindness and grace who had only forgiveness and love in her heart. Phoebe felt her heart welling with both joy and grief.  
"Your mother is very special," she whispered to the sleeping child. "And so are you."  
She turned out the light, and shuttered the door so that it remained open only a crack.  
Returning to her own room, Phoebe took out the book she had purchased that day, along with a calligraphy pen and a small bottle of india ink. What she purposed could not reasonably be done with a marker or a ballpoint pen. Acutely aware of the enormity of the task before her, Phoebe was determined this should be done right. She smiled, remembering Paige's teasing earlier in the day, but she knew this was a wise purchase.  
She returned to the kitchen, to make herself a small pot of tea, so she would have something to sip on later. Less than half an hour later, she heard a key in the lock, and with great relief, peeked out of her door just enough to see her sister and Darryl enter the apartment safe and well, happy and contented with each other's company.  
Phoebe slipped her bedroom door closed, and sat on the bed, listening with anticipation. She heard Prue's squeal of joy and delight and smiled to herself. It had been such a little thing, really, but the pleasure it gave was worth so much more.  
A few moments later, there was a soft knock at Phoebe's door, and Prue slipped inside to give her sister a fierce hug. Her face was beaming with joy. "Thank you," she whispered in Phoebe's ear. "I love you!"  
"I love you, Prue," Phoebe whispered back, and the sudden truth of the words carried a weight far more palpable than even Phoebe had expected.  
"Goodnight," Prue whispered, kissing her sister's cheek.  
"Goodnight," Phoebe echoed, and Prue slipped from the room. A moment later, Phoebe heard Prue's door close, and she smiled wistfully to herself. For tonight, at least, it seemed there would be nothing radiated in this place but tranquility and joy - and love. All would be right with the world, for all too brief a time. But the time she had now would be perfect to start a new volume of The Book of Shadows.  
Phoebe pulled her chair up to the bed, and lay the book flat on the bed, opened to its first page. The binding and covers were good and strong, sturdy enough that she would write even here, on a soft mattress. She opened the ink jar carefully, set it on the nightstand, and put a calligraphy nib into the pen. She was about to dip the pen into the jar, and hesitated. A small prayer, or at least offering of thanksgiving, would not go amiss.  
Lighting a single candle, Phoebe whispered softly aloud, "On this blessed night of joy and peace, I call upon the loving kindness of all the descendants of Melinda Warren, to all the witches of the Halliwell family who have gone before me. I seek the joy and blessing of your company. Help guide my hands, make my words, and the re-creation of your words, in fullness of love, for the sake of all the daughters yet to come."  
Her heartfelt prayer sent, Phoebe bent over the book and began her toil.  
On the first page, she carefully, painstakingly inscribed, _"The Book of Shadows, begun 21 November, 1999, first transcribed by Phoebe Halliwell and Prudence Trudeau, in loving memory of Andy Trudeau, and Piper and Leo Wyatt."_  
Phoebe paused for a moment and regarded her calligraphy critically. The letters were large and uniform, lacking the elegance of practiced calligraphy, and yet somehow the simple curves presented themselves with the very sincerity and straightforwardness she had hoped for. Ruefully, she gently squeezed her hand, which was already cramping slightly. How on earth did Melinda Warren write an entire book like this, she marveled, and then grinned. Melinda probably had a magical pen to write it all out for her, while she dictated aloud.  
Leaving a modest margin below the inscription, Phoebe next took to task writing out all the words of the invocation, taking great care not to speak any of the words aloud as she wrote:  
_"Hear now the words of the witches.  
The secrets we hid in the night.  
The oldest of Gods are invoked here.  
The great work of magic is sought.  
In this night and in this hour,  
I call upon the ancient power.  
Bring your powers to we sisters three.  
We want the power.  
Give us the power."  
_ Having done with the first page, Phoebe straightened up, feeling her back stiffening slightly, but certain she could now undertake the task as she'd hoped. She continued to write until nearly dawn, recording with painstaking care any spell she could completely remember; leaving out family history only because she wished to consult with Prue first before committing those particulars to paper. The history of this world, she already knew, did not always parallel with her own memories.  
Phoebe determined to sleep at least a couple of hours before rising, feeling certain she would have day care duty later in the morning. She reached a stopping point, stoppered the ink jar and cleaned her pen nib while waiting for the ink on the page to dry, then closed the book carefully and returned it to the bottom of the armoire.  
Wearily, Phoebe lay down on the bed and stretched out, her back quite stiff now, and lamented only for a moment the lack of a clock or a cell phone to confirm the time. She knew only that it was well past midnight, and the world seemed utterly still and tranquil. If Prue and Darryl were still in the throes of lovemaking, they were entirely silent about it. She closed her eyes and fell instantly asleep.  
The sound of the shower woke her, and although her body protested vehemently, Phoebe got up, realizing she would need to tend to Patience this morning. She was still wearing her clothes from the night before, but feeling slightly chilled, she shrugged into her terrycloth bathrobe over her clothing, then padded her way into the kitchen. She made both a pot of tea as well as coffee, anticipating that Prue might want something gentler on her stomach.  
It was not Prue but Darryl who entered the kitchen a few minutes later, fully dressed except for the necktie, hung over one shoulder as if forgotten. He was bleary eyed and clearly exhausted, but smiling happily.  
"Good morning," Phoebe grinned at him, holding out a cup of coffee, and he took it gratefully.  
"Thank you for what you did last night," he said to Phoebe, his voice ragged and husky and dropped almost a full octave from lack of sleep. "That was really thoughtful."  
"You're very welcome, Darryl."  
"Prue was delighted. So was I."  
She gave him a sympathetic look. "Do you have to go into the office today?"  
He sighed. "Bad guys always need catching, Phoebe. This dude we're after right now, he's something beyond bad. I promised Kershaw I'd be in for a briefing at ten."  
Phoebe glanced at the kitchen clock. In her own exhaustion, she hadn't regarded she still needed to go to her own job, and drop off Patience before she did. With great relief, she saw she would have time to shower and change clothes first.  
"Prue's asleep?"  
"I don't think so. She wants to see Patience before you guys left this morning."  
"Can I fix you something for breakfast?" Phoebe offered.  
Darryl shook his head wearily. "I'd love to, but I really need to be going," he sighed. "Please tell Prue I'll call her tonight. I don't want to call in the morning, in case she's asleep."  
Through one barely opened, swollen eye he noted Phoebe's attire. "I hope we didn't keep you up last night."  
"I didn't hear you guys at all. I kept myself up. I had a project of my own to work on."  
"A project, huh? What kind of project keeps you up all night long?"  
Phoebe hesitated for a moment. "Writing a book. Of magic," she confessed finally.  
Darryl fixed Phoebe with a sober stare. "Prue says there's no evil in you, and I hope she's right," he said finally. "But I do know what magic did to Prue, and to her family. Nothing good came of it in the end."  
"I'm not the Phoebe you knew from before, Darryl." Phoebe's voice was whisper soft. "I promise you, I'm not. And I love Prue, with all my heart. The joy you share with her is very special, and I will do everything I can to protect it - and both of you."  
Darryl seemed mollified for the moment, or at least, too exhausted to argue. He managed a smile. "Yeah, I think I believe you," he nodded. He pilfered a banana from the fruit bowl and weakly raised the mug of coffee in her direction. "Thanks for breakfast, Phoebe. I'll catch you later."  
As he walked towards the front door of the apartment, Prue slipped out of the bedroom, wearing only her bathrobe. They shared a brief kiss at the door and a whispered exchange. Then Darryl was gone, and Prue trudged into the kitchen, barely able to keep her eyes open. She slumped into a chair, and gratefully took the mug of chamomile tea that Phoebe offered, inhaling its aroma deeply.  
"Good night?" Phoebe grinned.  
"Good night," Prue agreed, with a voice not much more than a rasp, eyes still closed, hanging onto the steaming mug for dear life.  
"I'm going to hop in the shower, so I can take Patience this morning," Phoebe said, keeping her voice soft.  
"Thanks," Prue managed to respond.  
Phoebe hurried away, and quickly set out her clothes, then slipped into the bathroom. The shower, although brief, made her feel much more refreshed and alert, and she returned to the kitchen in less than twenty minutes, to find Patience sitting in her mother's lap, both of them too groggy for sensible communication.  
Phoebe knew she lacked Piper's skills in the kitchen, or even Prue's, but she could manage a primitive breakfast, and soon had steaming bowls of oatmeal available for all of them. Patience had apparently slept well enough, and was just normally slow to wake, but the orange juice and oatmeal helped. Prue managed a few desultory bites of her oatmeal before sequestering herself to just tea. As Patience grew more wakeful, she fidgeted, and Prue winced slightly.  
At Patience's worried look, Phoebe smiled reassuringly. "Your mommy's fine," she promised. "She's just a little sore." She would have gently teased her sister more, but at the moment, Prue was too groggy to notice. She stroked her daughter's hair tenderly, more asleep than awake.  
Numbed by exhaustion, and more distracted than she cared to admit, Phoebe got everything ready for Patience, and got them both shrugged into coats with only minutes to spare. Prue had barely moved from where she'd fallen into the chair, but managed to summon up the energy to hug her daughter and give her a kiss. "Be good today," she whispered. "I'll see you tonight. I love you, bye-bye."  
"I love you, bye-bye," Patience echoed her mother with a fierce hug, and Prue did her best not to grimace.  
Prue staggered to her feet and gave Phoebe a quick hug as well. "Thank you," she whispered in her sister's ear, with only breath making up her words, her larynx utterly stilled. "For everything. I love you."  
"I love you, Prue," Phoebe murmured, taking care to hug her sister very gently. "Sleep well. I'll pick up Patience on the way home from work." She grinned at her sister. "And I expect lots of X-rated details tonight," she teased.  
Prue merely gave her sister an exhausted smile.  
Phoebe was relieved to find that driving in this version of San Francisco was a considerably calmer experience than its counterpart in the world she came from. Compared to her world, this city had only a minute fraction of the vehicular traffic. Apparently what Prue had said still held true: most people were staying off the roads, one good thing about the absence of magic, Phoebe had to admit to herself.  
After dropping Patience at the day care, Phoebe found her way to work, and belatedly realized she might have been better served by getting more sleep herself. Still, she did not regret the late night, and felt she had something tangible to share with her sister, when both of them were properly awake.  
She settled into her cubicle, feeling utterly exhausted, but still with a lingering trace of the well-being she'd felt the night before. She contemplated staggering to the breakroom for a cup of coffee before starting her day, when Paige Matthews hurried over to her desk.  
"Where have you been?" she demanded breathlessly.  
Phoebe frowned, worried. "I'm not late, am I?" she asked.  
"No, but I was really hoping you'd get her sooner." She leaned over and began speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. "You remember the old guy at the occult shop yesterday?"  
"Yeah, what about him?"  
"Do you remember him saying something about the eyes of a demon?"  
Phoebe nodded slowly, remembering. "Yeah."  
"Do you remember what he said, exactly?"  
Phoebe was bemused by the question but saw no reason not to answer. "He said, ah, something like, 'he has red eyes, but cannot see.' So what?"  
Paige leaned in a little closer. "Your sister's boyfriend is one of the lead detectives on a homicide case, the only thing the entire department is talking about," she hissed. "This guy has killed three people in the last month. The one thing all the victims have in common is..." she hesitated before continuing, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. "Phoebe, every one of them is missing both their eyes!"


End file.
